


Leaving the Dursleys

by Bomunuf



Series: Harry Potter and What Could Have Been [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bomunuf/pseuds/Bomunuf
Summary: Harry moves in with Sirius and Remus.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Harry Potter and What Could Have Been [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067549
Comments: 6
Kudos: 176





	Leaving the Dursleys

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning is quite graphic. Harry's eight, nearly nine, this is set before my other works.
> 
> Disclaimer: I despise JK Rowling and her beliefs. Transphobia isn't welcome here.

Harry didn’t know what happened. Dudley and his friends had been Harry Hunting, and he had ended up on the roof of his school. He couldn’t figure out how he got there either. One minute he’d been crouched behind a wooden bench in the school yard, eyes squeezed shut tight and frozen in fear of the bigger boys coming up towards him, and the next he was on the roof, sliding slowly down the tiles and scrambling to steady himself. 

The headmaster had called Uncle Vernon straight away and had admonished Harry in front of him for the better part of twenty minutes. Uncle Vernon had told the headmaster that Harry was an awfully disturbed child, that his parents had been alcoholics, and that he would see to it that during Harry’s three-day suspension he would learn his lesson. Harry said nothing. He looked hard at his shoes and tried to stop the full body shudders that were threatening to overwhelm him when he thought about his uncle punishing him. The headmaster seemed satisfied that Uncle Vernon would take care of him and let the pair leave the school. Uncle Vernon even stuck his head into Dudley’s classroom to wish the boy a good day before grabbing onto the back of Harry’s shirt and dragging him outside. 

The car ride home had been awful. Uncle Vernon had screamed at him the entire time, spit flying from his mouth. How he was a freak, a good for nothing bastard, how his father shouldn’t have ever had him. Harry said nothing back. He knew that Uncle Vernon only got worse when he replied. He had been bad too; it was nothing he didn’t deserve. Uncle Vernon had to miss work to come and pick him up. Aunt Petunia was away for the week with Aunt Marge to have some “girl time”, so she couldn’t have gotten him. Harry swallowed. Aunt Petunia always stopped the punishments from getting too bad, always so worried about what the neighbours would think. 

When they got back to the house Uncle Vernon ordered Harry into the kitchen. He was told to lie over a kitchen chair and pull his trousers down. Face burning, Harry did as he was told and listened to the unmistakable sound of Uncle Vernon undoing his belt. 

He couldn’t stop from crying out as the lashes rained down on him. He hadn’t been belted in a really long time, he normally just got slapped or maybe hit with a wet towel. This was excruciating. Uncle Vernon had yelled at him the entire time. That he wasn’t to behave like a freak again. He would beat the freak out of him. 

It ended eventually. Harry was picked up from slumped over the kitchen chair, unable to grip the legs any longer. Uncle Vernon picked him up and threw him in the cupboard, sliding the lock shut. Harry could just make out the sound of him opening the front door and leaving the house. He couldn’t remember much else before passing out, vaguely aware that the backs of his legs were wet, likely with blood.

\---

A loud knock woke Harry. His mouth was dry, he had a dull headache and his legs ached. His underwear clung to his legs and he realised in horror that he had wet himself while asleep. He nudged at the door to the cupboard, but it was still locked. Heavy thuds from above him indicated that Uncle Vernon and Dudley were both home. He could just make out the sound of the front door being opened, and Uncle Vernon shouting at whoever was there. The person – no, people – at the door shouted back. Suddenly, light poured into the cupboard, and Harry pulled an arm up to shield his eyes. 

“Harry?” a voice asked. 

Harry swayed slightly, moving his arm down and sitting himself upright. He was so tired. A man with sandy coloured hair was peeping in at him. Harry flushed red realising he could see his pants, wet and clinging to his bloody legs. 

“Yessir,” he managed to croak out. 

Strong arms reached into the cupboard and found their way under his armpits, gently pulling Harry out and into the hall. He was shaking, wet and cold. His head was really groggy, but he was desperately trying to figure out what was going on. There were other people in the hallway, wearing some kind of uniform. It looked a bit like a bathrobe, and if his head wasn’t swimming so badly Harry would’ve giggled at the absurdity of it. One woman with short pink hair was holding a stick up to Uncle Vernon’s chin and another was walking Dudley into the sitting room. Two men stood at the door.

“I’m bringing him back to my house,” the man carrying him told the man at the front door. “Someone send a healer over.”

Harry began to shake. No one was saying anything, he was so sore, and this strange man was kidnapping him. Why was no one stopping him? He tried to push the man away, but his grip just tightened. One of the man’s hands snaked its way up to his hair and started combing through it gently.

“It’s ok Harry, I’ll explain everything, close your eyes,” the man whispered. One of the dressing gown people handed the man a tennis ball, and with a woosh Harry passed out once again.

\---

Harry woke up in a bed. A deep red blanket was pulled up to his chin and soft pillows were under his head. He looked around the room but couldn’t make out much; his glasses had been taken off and his vision was awful without it. His door must’ve been open though, he could make out the sounds of men arguing. He squeezed his eyes shut tight in case they came in, they might leave him alone if they thought he was asleep.

“In a cupboard!” the first voice shouted.

“You’ll wake … scared … gentle,” the second voice replied. It was harder to make out.

Suddenly Harry remembered the strange man who had taken him and realised he needed to get out. He waited until the voices stopped and peeled himself out of the bed. His legs and head still ached quite a bit, but he was surprised to see he was wearing pyjamas. In his shock he didn’t notice the two men enter the room until they were standing in front of him. 

“Harry,” the sandy hair man said. “You must be hungry; how do you feel?”

Harry just stared at him. How did he feel? What kind of a question was that?

The men were staring at him, waiting for an answer. Harry turned to look at the other one. He had black, wavy hair, much longer than any other man’s he’d seen. He must have been squinting because the first man handed him his glasses. He put them on and said nothing. Saying nothing was always safer, even if he had been asked a direct question.

“I’m Sirius,” the black-haired man said. “This is Remus. I reckon you’re a bit scared and confused.”

Both men waited again. Harry rewarded them with a little shrug, a bit happier now that he knew their names, but still aware that he had no clue where he was.

“Let’s go downstairs and we can explain everything,” Remus said, placing a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and guiding him out of the room. 

Sandwiched between the two men, Harry was led downstairs and into a kitchen. The tiled floor was cold on his bare feet, and he was grateful when he sat down and his toes no longer touched the ground. A cheese sandwich was placed in front of him and Remus put the kettle on as Sirius sat down facing him.

“Do you like tea Harry?” Remus asked.

Harry shrugged, staring at the sandwich. He was so hungry, and his stomach had forgotten about food before he saw the bread. 

“I’ll make you a cup to try, eat up now and we’ll tell you what’s going on after you’ve had your lunch.”

Harry glanced up at Sirius who nodded pointedly at the food. He didn’t need to be told twice. He flung an arm around the plate protectively and devoured the sandwich. He didn’t really like cheese, but it was the best sandwich he’d ever had. 

A hand reached down to take the plate and Harry flinched hard, quickly pulling his arms down and onto his lap. A cup of pale tea was put in front of him, and Remus sat down beside Sirius.

“I put two sugars in it,” Remus said. “It makes it much easier to drink. Go ahead and try, if you don’t like it not to worry.”

Harry sipped at the tea. It was warm, and he could feel his body heating up as he drank. He put it down after a few sips, he had already eaten like an animal, he didn’t want these men to think he was feral.

“Harry, we know you don’t remember us, but we were friends with your parents,” Sirius began. A lump formed in Harry’s throat. His parents? Drunk freaks, Aunt Petunia always said. No wonder crazy men were kidnapping him. “I’m your Godfather, Harry. You were meant to live here, with me, when they died.”

Harry let out a small squeak. His eyes were stinging a bit. Not live with the Dursleys? His parents hadn’t wanted that? He didn’t understand.

“What?” he croaked out before he could stop himself. He blinked hard. Big boys don’t cry, just pansies and poofs. 

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Remus said. The men looked at each other. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to say it all, but it needs to come out. You’re a wizard Harry. A very powerful one I would wager. Your parents certainly were.”

Harry stared at them. They were mad. They’d kidnapped him, and they were crazy, and they would probably kill him. Without too much thought he shoved the chair away from the table, jumped up and sprinted to the door, not looking back to see if he was being followed. He ran into the hallway and got as far as the front door before the men caught him.

He kicked and screamed as he was picked up and brought into another room, one with a couch that he was placed down on.

“You’re crazy!” he yelled. “Let me go! There’s no such thing as magic!”

He had never been this scared in his life. Not even when he’d been beaten by Uncle Vernon. He’d give anything for the consistency of his Aunt and Uncles’ house right now. He knew they were mean, but they weren’t crazy.

“You’re freaks,” he tried when the men didn’t reply to his outburst. They both stood over him, watching as he wore himself out.

“Calm down Harry, you’ve opened up one of your cuts,” Remus said unflinching. 

Harry froze and looked at his leg. His calf was bleeding and it was seeping through the pyjama bottoms. He pulled up the pant leg, it was where the buckle had hit him, the rest of his leg was a crisscross of dark blue bruises and fresh cuts.

Remus pulled out a brown stick from his pocket and touched it to Harry’s leg. The bleeding stopped instantly, and to his amazement the cuts started to heal, and the bruises turned a yellow colour.

“You’re a wizard Harry,” he repeated. “And so are we.”

Harry couldn’t deny the blatant magic that had been used. He sat still and listened as the two men told him everything. About the war, about how his parents had died, about how Sirius had been falsely arrested.

“We’d like you to live here,” Sirius said at the end. “We were going to get you in a month or so, when I had been back longer, but Mrs Figg flooed us. She was worried.”

Mrs Figg? Harry scrunched his nose up. Flooed?

“Why was she worried?” Harry asked instead. “Because of Uncle Vernon?”

Sirius nodded. “We won’t hurt you like that Harry. You won’t be hurt like that again.”

Harry doubted that very much, but it was a nice thought. He supposed living with these men who had known his parents wouldn’t be so bad. Remus had even shown him pictures of his parents; James and Lily, he learnt, were their names. The pictures moved.

“Ok,” he said. “Ok I’ll stay.”

Uncle Vernon probably wouldn’t let him come back anyway.


End file.
